


These, our bodies, possessed by light.

by alkjira



Series: Evergreen [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Mini-Vacation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3226604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindir wasn't sure if he should be flattered or worried that it only took Bard two days to arrange for them to spend a night well away from the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This kept trying to turn angsty on me, and I blame Lindir thinking too much for that.  
> He's always three steps ahead that one.
> 
> But it's not *overly* angsty. And there's smut.  
> Pretty much continued where the last story left off.
> 
> Posted after midnight, so I blame everything wonky on that.
> 
> (psst, diemarysues, I think some hints of what we talked about snuck in here, or am I seeing things? not counting your lovely suggestion of course)

Lindir wasn't sure if he should be flattered or worried that it only took Bard two days to arrange for them to spend a night well away from the city.  
  
The worry stemmed from his suspicions that Bard thought things would change after the audience with the Royal Consort (and possibly King Thorin as well), and thus he saw the need to act swiftly. Before it would be too late.  
  
Some fears could not be laid to rest by words, but time and actions would hopefully manage, and Lindir would do what was needed to return to Bard, no matter what would happen in the future.  
  
He did not think it would be necessary, but he would go against Lord Elrond’s wishes if it came to that, and he would do so without regrets.  
  
It was frightening, in a sense, to have a feeling as strong as his love for Bard arrive so quickly, but Lindir was immensely thankful for it as he knew the time he would have with Bard would be comparatively brief. Half a century, perhaps a little more, perhaps less.

He would treasure every moment.

And some moments a little more than others.

-

“Hopefully it won’t rain tomorrow,” Bard said as he began to rid himself of his wet clothes. “If the clouds remain your stars will have a hard time watching us.” He made a face as the sodden laces on his tunic fought him. “Not to mention that sleeping outside won’t be pleasant. Came out of nowhere this-“  
  
Outside the thunderstorm cracked and rumbled as if it knew it was being discussed.  
  
“-storm,” Bard finished, looking out the window appearing to be personally offended by the abrupt change of weather.

That morning the sun had shone hot and bright on a blue sky, and Bard had dressed accordingly in a loose-fitting, white linen tunic, tucked into light brown trousers.

Those trousers were now dark with water and the tunic clung lovingly to him, moulded to each ridge and curve of bone and muscle, made even more indecent by the way the thin fabric had gone almost entirely transparent.  
  
Lindir had a powerful urge to get up and cover the window, but it wasn’t because Bard’s appearance was inappropriate for public view, (though it wasn’t really appropriate either) but rather because he wished to jealously guard this sight for his own eyes only.

He had been sitting by Bard’s desk making notes for his meeting with Bilbo Baggins - the children entertaining themselves in the common room - when he’d heard the front door open, and soon after Bard entered their bedroom.

As soon as Lindir lifted his gaze from the paper to greet him he had lost all desire to keep noting down arguments why an alliance between Rivendell and Erebor would be mutually beneficial. Instead his mind filled with thoughts about what else could be mutually beneficial. But those only concerned himself and his love.  
  
Considering that Lindir had seen Bard without a shirt on their very first meeting and many times since; as well as wearing even less, the view should perhaps not affect him this much, but it undeniably did.

As Bard gave up on the laces and simply pulled the dripping tunic over his head Lindir could not have looked away unless all of the world had been about to end.

In his life he has seen many things, but he’d never seen anything or anyone quite as beautiful as Bard. And he'd never seen beauty that holds such power.  
  
Bard was muscles and sinews, sharp lines and strong curves, and Lindir’s eyes flickered up and down his lover’s body, not able to pick one spot to settle when there was so much to take in.  
  
The sun-kissed almost golden colour of Bard’s skin had already made Lindir understand at least some of the lure the shiny metal has had on others since its discovery, and now the soft light of the candles scattered around the room enhanced that aspect, making Bard a living golden statue.

Without really knowing when he had gotten out of the chair Lindir found himself crossing the small distance of floor separating him from Bard. In the back of his mind he knew that the children were only two rooms away, but he had to touch, had to make sure…

Bard looked up at his approach, smiling slightly at him and drops of water fell from his hair to trail down his chest, causing the Man to shiver. His nipples were already stiff points and Lindir licked his lips without being aware to have done so.

“You are cold.”  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll –“ Bard paused when Lindir pressed his palm to his chest, over his heart. “-warm right up?”

Bard made a soft surprised sound, almost just a huff of breath, when Lindir leaned in to brush their lips together.

“I’m feeling pretty warm already,” Bard murmured, cupping a (despite his words) cool hand to the back of Lindir’s head, gently stroking over silky hair to come to rest on the top of his spine.  
  
Beneath Lindir’s hand the steady drum of Bard’s heart thumped steadily and the Elf smiled and slid his hand up to Bard’s shoulder, down his arm to tangle their fingers together.

“It won’t rain tomorrow.”  
  
A beat went by as Bard gathered his thoughts.  
  
“You can’t know that.”

“You’ll see,” Lindir promised and squeezed his hand.

 -

It didn’t rain, and as they readied the ponies at dawn, beneath entirely clear skies, Bard shot Lindir looks that were half amused, half wary. As if he expected that Lindir had been able to control the weather all along and was only now confessing to it.  
  
“Consider that I’ve seen many storms,” Lindir said as he made sure the girth wasn’t too tightly fastened. “You learn the look and feel of them eventually.” He peered up at the pale blue sky, tinged with pink. “It’ll be colder tonight.”  
  
“I meant to ask, where do you want to go?”  
  
Lindir’s hesitation only lasted a few moments, but it was enough to make Bard take notice.  
  
“Wherever you want is fine.” He patted his horse and stepped over to where Lindir stood. “I realise I should have already asked you this, but have you been in this part of the world before?”  
  
“Once, when the Mirkwood was still the Greenwood,” Lindir said. “My Lord did not want us to go here after the shadow had fallen over the forest.”  
  
As always when he found himself agreeing with Lord Elrond, Bard’s face underwent an interesting transformation and ended as a study of resigned frustration.  
  
“Wise of him,” he said tightly, and Lindir hid a smile.  
  
“My Lord _is_ very wise.”

“I’m sure.”  
  
“And brave.”  
  
Bard looked pained.  
  
“But I much prefer my King,” Lindir said and let the smile spread over his lips and crinkle his eyes.  
  
“I’m not your King,” Bard protested immediately, but Lindir noticed there was some relief mixed in with the denial as well.  
  
“But you are a King, and do I not have at least a small claim to you?”

The torn look on Bard’s face should not be that amusing and Lindir sternly told himself to stop before he pushed his teasing too far.

“My apologies,” he said, brushing his fingers down Bard’s arm, briefly touching them to his.

“It’s fine,” Bard said and sighed. “I do know when I’m being silly.” He caught Lindir’s hand and gave it a small squeeze before releasing him. “For what it’s worth, I am yours.”

“It’s not silly,” Lindir said and shook his head. “But the use or lack of a word, be it King or another, does not alter what you are to me.”  
  
“So I’m not silly, just wrong?”  
  
“No, I-“ Lindir was about to apologise again when he saw the teasing glint in Bard’s eyes. “I deserved that.”  
  
“Yes you did,” Bard smiled and went to collect their saddle bags.  
  
A yawning Sigrid followed him as he came back.  
  
"Could you please lean  down a little?" she asked Lindir, and a little confused Lindir complied only for her to deliver a small kiss to his cheek.  
  
"Take care of Da' for us?"  
  
"It'll be my honour," Lindir promised.  
  
"Hey, aren't you going to ask me to take care of Lindir?" Bard asked when Sigrid nodded and, hiding another yawn, turned to go back inside again.  
  
"Da' he travelled here from some place I've never even heard of, I think he'll be fine regardless where a day's ride will take you."  
  
"But _I_ won't?" Bard asked, and Sigrid gave him a sweet smile.  
  
"Sure you are, Lindir is going to make sure of it."  
  
There was a quiet command in those words and Lindir nodded at Sigrid, and satisfied she moved towards the house again, only to squeak when Bard caught her around the waist and pulled her in for a quick hug.  
  
-  
  
They went east and north.

What had caused Lindir’s hesitation at Bard’s question of where to go was that on the tip of Lindir’s tongue there was the request to ask to see Lake-town, or rather what was left of it as it had never been rebuilt after Smaug had devastated it.  
  
There was still people living off the Long Lake though. Bard had said that a small fishing village had sprung up on the western shore, and they traded with Dale and perhaps considered Bard to be their King, perhaps not.  
  
Time would tell, had been Bard’s comment, finished with a small sigh.  
  
Just as a long life made you able to predict weather, at least to a certain degree, it also shed some light on how history was made, and Lindir was almost entirely sure that Dale would one day be a capital in a larger realm, much like Minas Tirith was to Gondor.  
  
And unless Bard succeeded to completely hand over the ruling power to a council, Lindir was convinced that Bain or Sigrid or Tilda would follow their father as ruler.

But thoughts like that were not meant for days like this, and Lindir set them aside; stepped away from what might once be, and tried to place himself entirely in the now.  
  
A now that consisted of a clear blue sky, the wind against his cheeks, and the steady sound of hooves against the ground as their horses carried them further and further away from Dale.  
  
When they paused to allow the horses to drink and rest Lindir asked if Bard would be amenable to sharing one horse between them?  
  
“We’ll need to shift the packs,” Bard said, and it wasn’t a no. Nor was it a no when Bard removed the horse's saddle as well.  
  
“You’re anything but heavy, so we’ll be able to keep a good pace regardless, but I think this will be better. You’ll not need to sit as far back, less risk of annoying Apple here.”  
  
Not sitting as far back meant that Lindir continued their journey pressed to _Bard_ ’s back, holding on perhaps a little too tightly, not out of fear of falling off, but simply from the desire to be close.

The Elf chuckled at the image of them slipping off the horse; because if one fell the other would surely be dragged along, but when Bard turned his head to ask what was funny Lindir only tightened his arms a little more and smiled up at the sky.  
  
-  
  
It was early afternoon when Bard slowed their pace, and in the absence of being bounced up and down Lindir hooked his chin over Bard’s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against Bard’s.  
  
“If we find a place to make camp, we could practice before the stars will be watching,” Lindir murmured.  
  
Bard snorted. “Will there be a score simply based on performance? Or will they rate technique and duration separately?”  
  
“I’ve come to learn that stars won’t ever judge us,” Lindir said loftily, and he smiled at the laugh that earned him.

The stars had been there when his people had first awakened, and they would be there long after they were gone. Perhaps not entirely the same, a little changed, but nothing and no one could go through time and stay exactly the same. It was as it should be.  
  
As they continued on the landscape turned more and more barren apart from the green grass covering the ground in uneven splotches, but as they’d brought everything they’d need that mattered little. All they needed was water and a place to let the horses graze; preferably close to something that would offer protection against the wind if needed.  
  
They found a small stream with clear water, surrounded by lush green grass, only to realise that they best find a place to spend the night elsewhere as the ground was literally crawling with large red ants, and even stopping for that short of a time made the horses nervously stamp their hooves.

The second time was luckier, and their camp for the night was made at the bottom of a small valley, surrounded by soft hills, and several streams ran through it on their way south. A few trees stood here and there, their bodies straight and strong, so the wind would likely not be a bother.  
  
It had been some time since Lindir last climbed a tree, so he made sure to rectify this oversight has Bard got the horses settled a small distance away.  
  
“I’m not making love to you in a tree,” was Bard’s comment when he returned, but the smile he aimed up at Lindir was soft, and the Elf supposed that if he’d ask, Bard might actually be possible to convince to try it.  
  
But be that as it may, Lindir had no wish to end their little trip with broken bones, so he shook his head and returned Bard’s smile.  
  
“I promise I’m quite content if we stay on the ground.”  
  
A small frown touched Bard’s brow. “I must admit that I wish I could offer you something else. You deserve much better than the ground.”  
  
It was a sweet thought, but an unnecessary one. “I’ve slept on the ground more times than you’ve slept in a bed,” Lindir promised as he made his way down to stand beside Bard. “It’s not the first time lord Elrond sends me as an envoy.” Reaching out for Bard’s hands he added: “Even though it will be my last.”

-  
  
They did make love in the sunshine, on top of a pile of blankets.  
  
Lindir curled behind Bard’s back, rocking slowly into him, whispering promises in Sindarin into his skin, all the things he’d tell Bard again someday, in Common, but not just yet. Things about firsts and lasts and more. Things like forever.

But the time for such things would come later, because time always did.

Afterwards Bard rolled to lie on his back, and Lindir followed, resting his head on Bard’s shoulder as Bard's arm came up to wrap around him and their legs tangled together.  
  
“Tonight I want you to have me,” Lindir murmured as his fingers drew random patterns through the hair on Bard’s chest.

“Believe me, I _just_ had you,” Bard snorted. “I feel it well enough still.” Before Lindir could ask, he added. “And it’s a good feeling, don’t doubt that.”

“I wish for me to have you then,” Lindir amended, his hand trailing down Bard’s chest to curl possessively around his spent cock. “I wish to have this inside me.”  
  
“Very clear,” Bard said, and pressed his lips to Lindir’s temple. “I love you, Lindir.”  
  
“And I you.”  
  
-  
  
After dressing, to varying degrees, Bard started dinner as Lindir went to check on the horses, and when he came back the fire was burning merrily, a pot suspended above it, and the sun was just beginning to make its proper descent towards the hills that surrounded them.  
  
Bard was busy sorting out the blankets they’d tangled earlier, and Lindir watched him for a few moments before deliberately stepping on a stick to make a sound to announce his presence.  
  
“Problem?” Bard asked even as a small tension fled from his shoulders. “You were gone longer than I thought.”  
  
“One of the horses limped a little,” Lindir explained. “She’d managed to get a small stone stuck in her hoof and she was a bit shy before she allowed me to pick it.”  
  
One of Bard’s eyebrows rose in silent challenge. “You mean the horses are not instantly charmed by you?”  
  
Lindir chuckled softly. “There are few such beings in this world.”  
  
“I was,” Bard shrugged, and Lindir smiled at him.  
  
“I’ll have that in mind if I need to pick your hooves.”  
  
“You smile more when you’re outside,” Bard said, and the abrupt change of subject made Lindir blink. “And you smile more now, laugh more, in general, than you did at the beginning. Am- are you, happy? In Dale?”  
  
The ‘with me’ hovered between them, unsaid. Or possibly it was ‘with us’ as Bard’s children were never far from his thoughts.  
  
Lindir bit back the loud ‘of course!’ that wanted to burst out of him, and instead met Bard’s eyes and smiled, letting everything he felt be seen on his face.  
  
“Yes, I am,” he said quietly but surely. “Very much so.”  
  
“Good,” Bard said. “That’s, good.”  
  
He rose from his crouch by the blankets and remained standing for a few moments, looking a little lost. The setting sun was behind him, painting his edges in gold and red, his shoulders were bare as he’d not put on a shirt before, and Lindir’s heart was so full that it almost _ached_ with the feeling.

“I’ve never been happier,” Lindir added, taking a step towards Bard. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve never been happier.”  
  
He didn’t say that part of him felt as if the rest of his life had been spent waiting for Bard, because that wasn’t fair, and very likely it wasn’t true either. At most he’d waited for _something_.  
  
“And I would think I would be happy anywhere that has you.”

A few more steps and he was in Bard’s arms, and they wrapped around him, solid and real, and held him close.  
  
-  
  
The first star appeared even before the sun had set, and long before the moon had risen, and it made Lindir smile as that was how it had happened at the very beginning.  
  
He’d not seen it for himself of course, but it was known that the stars had been made well before any other light had been made to shine on Arda.  
  
Smile still on his lips Lindir leaned more of his weight on Bard and hummed softly beneath his breath.  
  
The hum grew into song, and Lindir sang on as more and more stars appeared on the heavens.

_A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna miriel…  
_

 

“I would guess that had something to do with stars,” Bard said when Lindir had fallen quiet again. The Man’s voice was hushed, almost tentative.  
  
“In part,” Lindir said and twined his fingers with Bard’s. “It is a hymn to praise Elbereth Gilthoniel. Varda, you might know her as.” 

“It was beautiful.”  
  
Lindir only hummed in reply, because if it had been it was no more than she deserved.  
  
The song still echoed in his chest as he leaned over to kiss Bard, and the echo grew stronger at the hungry sound escaping his lover as their lips touched.  
  
Bard returned his kiss as if it had been weeks or more since last they touched, and not merely hours.

An entirely undignified scramble brought them back to the blankets; shedding clothes on the way, and Lindir stretched out on his back and opened his arms to Bard, only needing to wait a moment before he had him.  
  
And once he had Bard in his arms and between his legs Lindir was loathe to let him go, even when they realised that the vial of oil had escaped at some point after its last use.  
  
“I need-“ Bard panted between kisses. “To get it. Not- without.”  
  
Despite the fire burning nearby there was not much light to see by, or perhaps it was just both of their distraction that played tricks on them, but Lindir had almost started to despair when the oil was finally found.  
  
Pouring a fair amount of it into his hand Lindir wrap his fingers around Bard’s length, drawing a low hiss from his lover as he thrust his now slick cock into Lindir’s fist.  
  
The air had cooled greatly since mid-day, but Lindir’s skin felt like it could catch on fire, and the heat was only made worse each time Bard as much as looked at him.  
  
At the first touch to his opening Lindir’s head fell back and he pulled his knees up towards his chest, baring himself for Bard’s eyes and fingers, wanting- no, _needing_ more.  
  
“That’s enough,” Lindir managed after the second finger. “I promise. I- _please_! I need you.”  
  
“Shhh,” Bard and stroked his free hand over Lindir’s chest, rubbing his thumb of a nipple before continuing down to wrap around Lindir’s flushed and stiff cock.  
  
“I thought- you wanted me to scream.”  
  
It had been a great effort to gather his thoughts enough to speak, but it was well worth it from the look of pure desire that crept into Bard’s dark eyes.  
  
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, pulling his fingers out and leaving Lindir squirming with the wrongness of being empty, but only for a few moments as he helped Lindir move one of his legs over Bard’s shoulder, the other curling around his hip, and then the thick, blunt head of Bard’s cock nudged into him and Lindir trembled as Bard pressed on, his legs twitching and jerking until he was finally filled, finally full.  
  
“All right?” Bard asked, peppering Lindir’s chest and throat with wet, quick kisses. “Lindir?”  
  
“ _Move_ ,” Lindir gasped, not sure if he’d used Common or Sindarin until Bard _did_ move.

Lindir’s arms were wrapped tightly around Bard’s back and each thrust of his hips rubbed Lindir’s cock against the Man’s stomach and _still_ it felt like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough.

Blindly he raised his head for a kiss, his lips pressing against Bard’s jaw and moved until they found his lips. He tightened the leg he had wrapped around Bard, heel pressing into the small of Bard’s back and Bard stilled inside of him, thick and hard and perfect and Lindir kissed him and kissed him and kissed him until his head was swimming and then Bard began to move again and now it was _perfect_.  
  
Three more thrusts was all it took for Lindir to spurt over his stomach, and over Bard’s too, and Bard groaned and stilled again.  
  
“Are you- can I-“  
  
“Yes,” Lindir said, voice hoarse and oh, had he actually screamed? Had he- and then Bard moved, but he moved _away_ , although Lindir only had time for a small noise of protest before Bard pushed back inside.  
  
The Man was kneeling now, with both of Lindir’s long legs over his shoulders, Lindir’s backside cradled in his lap, hands holding on tightly to his hips as he thrust.

Despite how his muscles were still weak from pleasure Lindir tried as best as he could to rock down to meet each roll of Bard's hips, and even though he had just spent there was still the occasional zing of almost unbearable pleasure as Bard moved just _so_.  
  
“Yes, more,” Lindir said, covering Bard’s hands with his own and squeezing, once, before stroking up his arms, trying to reach more skin, more of Bard. _“More._ I need you.”  
  
When Bard’s hand wrapped around his messy cock Lindir hissed, but he was undeniably erect again, or perhaps still.  
  
Bard’s fist worked him roughly, sliding slickly aided by Lindir's own seed, and Bard's cock was driving into him at a relentless pace and when he came for the second time the edges of Lindir’s vision flickered and filled with white light.  
  
He returned to himself just in time to see Bard’s face twist with pleasure, to feel his cock twitch as he spent himself inside Lindir’s body, his hips pressed against Lindir's, and in the moments before Bard’s knees could no longer hold and he tipped to the side, down on the blankets, Lindir looked up at Bard, at his love, at the dark velvet sky behind Bard's head, a sky liberally sprinkled with stars, and he was utterly content.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My brain wanted a small follow up to the first chapter (which was supposed to be the last in this particular story but meh)  
> Quickly written but I hope you'll like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I've gone back and changed a few details re Elves and sleeping in Evergreen, didn't think it through at the time, but now it's more relevant.)

In the early hours of the morning, shortly after a gold and pink dawn had made its appearance on the sky Lindir stirred and arched up against Bard who was kneeling beside him, leaning down over him. Lindir melted into the kiss being bestowed on his lips, twining his arms around Bard's neck.  
  
Bard's arms slid around Lindir's back, pulling him closer as he kept their mouths pressed together but he refused to deepen the kiss beyond that, which made Lindir whine low in his throat.  
  
"Morning brea-" Bard pulled back to explain, but Lindir ignored him and tugged his head closer again, licking into Bard's mouth as it was now conveniently open.

"Right," Bard said, a little breathlessly, some time later. Lindir was now sitting in his lap, legs around Bard's waist and their chests pressed together. "Good morning, sleepy head."

"I was not actually sleeping," Lindir murmured, hands combing through Bard's hair, untangling the small knots created in the night.   
  
"That not-sleeping thing you do seems an awful lot like sleeping," Bard pointed out, his palm to the side of Lindir's face. "Except for your eyes not being closed. You told me before you even dream."  
  
"It's not the same thing."  
  
Lindir  _could_  sleep, in the sense that he would cease to be conscious of the world around him, something he'd found led to him being disoriented and confused upon waking. However he did not need to find rest that way, and he preferred to avoid it. But his mind needed some rest, and there was a joy in resting at Bard's side, so even though Lindir only needed to spend a few hours each night in reverie he allowed himself to linger longer.

If any dangers had appeared Lindir would have been fully alert in an instance, but there had been no danger. Just Bard's soft breathing and the wind over ground and grass, and the song of the stars above them.  
  
"Uh huh," Bard said, brushing his thumb over Lindir's cheek. "Would you like to eat before we leave?"  
  
Lindir shook his head, a tiny movement as he did not want to dislodge Bard's hand. "Make love to me instead?"  
  
"We need to spend several hours on horseback," Bard said and smiled slightly. "I don't mean to imply anything about my... attributes, but won't you be sore?"  
  
He wasn't sore now, but Lindir could indeed feel a small reminder of their lovemaking the night before. It was possible that Bard had a point.   
  
"You wouldn't need to be inside of me, nor I inside you," he clarified. "We could remain like this, without clothes of course. And-"

Lindir broke off, instantly distracted as Bards eyes darkened and a slight flush pinked the Man's cheeks.  
  
"Or," Bard said, thumb moving again but now sweeping over Lindir's bottom lip before the Man leaned in to trace the same path with his tongue. "I could take you in my mouth until you spilled and you could do the same or I could perhaps come between your pretty thighs?"  
  
"Yes," Lindir breathed and Bard chuckled.  
  
"To which idea?"  
  
"Both."  
  
-  
  
They did not quite manage both, because having Bard spill in his mouth  _and_ between his thighs required a little more time than they had at their disposal, but Lindir was more than satisfied by first having Bard between his legs, hands and mouth expertly drawing out his pleasure, and then being allowed to do the same only reluctantly stopping at Bard's hissed request.  
  
"Like this," Bard said, gently nudging Lindir onto his side and pressing against him, Bard's chest to Lindir's back, the Man's hard length sliding in between his thighs slick from Lindir's mouth and its own pre-spend. "Lift your leg a little, yes-"  
  
Lindir twitched as a warm, calloused hand cupped his soft, sated cock, knowing that he would not be able to harden again just yet, but Bard simply held him as he rocked their bodies together.

It only took a few thrusts before warm wetness bloomed between them and Lindir shuddered and twisted around to kiss Bard, tasting the still lingering traces of himself on his lover's tongue.

-

It was after mid-day when they began to near Dale, and Lindir was surprised when Bard slowed the pace of their horse.  
  
"Would you like to move to your own horse?"  
  
Lindir's arms tightened a little around Bard's waist.  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
"No need to thank me," Bard, shoulders lifting in a small shrug before he urged the horse onwards again.  
  
Lindir did sit up a little straighter as they entered the town, did not lean as much of his weight against Bard, but that was all. There was nothing improper in holding on to the person in front of you when you shared a horse, Lindir told himself, resolutely ignoring how there was a perfectly good horse trotting beside them that now merely carried their supplies as well as two mostly unused saddles.  
  
People looked at them as they rode into town, but people always looked to Bard, greeting him, regardless of he was walking or riding with Lindir, so he tried not to be bothered by it. Bard certainly wasn't, cheerfully waving and calling out greetings.  
  
Once they stopped outside Bard's home Lindir slipped down from the horse, catching himself just before he could reach up to assist Bard.  
  
The amused looked he received as Bard unmounted said that he very well knew what Lindir had been thinking.  
  
No sooner had Bard's feet touched the ground before the children burst out of the house, Tilda leading the way even though her legs were the shortest.

Bard grinned and crouched down and opened his arms to allow his youngest girl to barrel into him.  
  
"Did you bring us anything?"  
  
"Did we- we were hardly even-  _Tilda_."  
  
"I'm just asking," the girl defended, stepping out of her father's arms to grin at him. "Can we come along next time?"  
  
Sigrid and Bain exchanged horrified looks.  
  
Seeing the need for a distraction Lindir took a step forward.   
  
“We do have something for you, all three of you.”

The expression on Bard’s face as he stood back up was a clear ‘We do?’, but he didn’t comment as Lindir presented the children with his small gifts that he'd stumbled upon on their little excursion.  
  
Glittering pale-gold pyrite to be made into a pendant for Tilda, a five large black feathers for Sigrid; shimmering in all the colours of the rainbow, to be sown into clothes for decoration, or maybe made into pendants as well.  
  
Lindir had not found anything he thought suitable for Bain as the boy seemed entirely uninterested in decorations of any sort, so instead he presented him with a small knife, and the promise that he’d teach him to carve arrows.  
  
“Oh, I want to learn too!” Tilda said, holding her hand tightly clenched around her little gem as if afraid that it’d jump out of her grasp. “Will you teach me?”  
  
“Of course,” Lindir promised. “If your father agrees.”  
  
“Promise not to cut off any fingers?” Bard chuckled at the offended look he received. “Fine then, I don’t mind.”  
  
“Sigrid?” Lindir asked. “Would you like to learn too?”  
  
She hesitated, fingers absently stroking along the edge one of the feathers. “Not really. Is that all right? I love the feathers, I promise.”  
  
“Course it’s all right,” Bard said. “After all I should have at least one child with all their fingers.”  
  
As the children drifted inside again, the excitement of their father returning passing into an acceptance of normality, Lindir turned to Bard and murmured.  
  
“The feathers _could_ be made into a crown.”  
  
“A crown?”  
  
Lindir affected a look of uttermost innocence. “The children are technically princesses and a prince. A crown would not be-“  
  
Bard looked appalled, so appalled Lindir had to hide a smile in a cough.  
  
“No crowns. Absolutely no crowns.”  
  
“A small circlet?”  
  
“No,” Bard said firmly. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. If you don't stop teasing me I will kiss you. Right here.”  
  
Lindir hesitated for a moment.  
  
"A coronet?"  
  
Surprise flashed over Bard’s face but was instantly followed by an exaggeratedly irate look.  
  
“That’s it.”  
  
A strong arm curled around Lindir’s waist and pulled him in close.  
  
Lindir would later deny to making any sort of startled yelping sound, but when Bard dipped him before leaning down for a kiss there might have been some panicked flailing before his hands found Bard’s shoulders.  
  
“Have you learnt your lesson?” Bard murmured, the arm supporting Lindir’s back tightening a little.  
  
“Tiara?” Lindir suggested and smiled up at him.

**Author's Note:**

> lol, quite honestly, I think I'd write this ship even if absolutely no one was reading.  
> I'm as invested in this pairing now as I am in Bilbo/Thorin.
> 
> Be that as it is though, I still appreciate comments if you've something to say, be that short or long :)
> 
> Title and song lyrics borrowed from a poem by Richard Siken and Tolkien respectively.


End file.
